METAPHORICAL HOT POTATO

Wilona's P.O.V

I started to harvest layers of doubt for the one person that didn't deserve it.

Turns out doubt is pals with fear, should've guessed that one. They shared information to build a case in aims of pushing me to destroy the man who made me smile. Because of course, they wouldn't do it themselves, doubt and fear were cowardice after all.

It started when Damon told me wanted to take things slow. It surprised me, but not because I didn't agree with it, but because it showed me just how far I was willing to go with him already. If Damon hadn't put a stop to things, I don't think I would've told him no to anything. His words punctured my effervescent state of grace that I'd let myself slipped into with him, a rude awakening from the dream never of us let end.

But I was awake now and I was scared.

Scared of how easily I unraveled within Damon's grasp, scared of how much I let myself trust him, how much I let myself forget... I was scared of me, not him. Because I was the one who let him in, who all but dove into the first spec of kindness he shared with me, so desperate for it that I couldn't think straight.

Didn't think about how much time I let myself spend with him, didn't consider the way I'd let our lives get intertwined or how much lonelier the darkness would be if I returned to it. If he changed his mind and left me out in the cold as he did.

Don't fucking touch me, bitch!

I wince at the harsh tone my memories forced in front of me, a cruel reminder of what was in store for me if Damon turned out to not be who I thought he was, who I wanted to believe he was. It'd be harder getting back up the second time that it was the first time.

I didn't want to go through that again.

So that left me with two choices, pull away before it was too late or keep placing my trust in him.

I knew what waited for me if I let Damon go, I'd be alone again in a world I couldn't connect to with my blurred perception of it. A vision that left me distrusting, left me vulnerable and weak. I'd have to stay on my own, void of any of Damon's affections that fueled me as my blood should and without his light, one that lit up the darkness for miles.

If I kept trusting him, he could let me down even though he hadn't yet. But no one ever lets anyone down, until they do. There's always a first time for something and I knew from experience that mine had a habit of leaving me more broken than I had been in the beginning.

So, I was left at a standstill. Facing two possible paths without having a clue which one would leave me the least torn at the end of it because they'd both hurt.

"You're quiet." Damon voices suddenly, drawing me from my negative thoughts.

I look down to find him looking up at me worriedly, my hand that'd been petting him stilled. I start back running my hands through his hair, offering him a gentle smile that calmed him a little.

"Just thinking," I mumble as I let my free hand curl, redirecting my fears that way.

"About how sexy I am?" He questions making me chuckle helplessly.

"Sadly no," I reply through my chuckles, Damon's smile was big as he looked up at me. "Where does all this confidence come from?"

He hesitates for a moment, brief flashes of sadness flickering through his blue eyes, making them darken. He stays silent, eyebrows pulling as he tries to decide whether or not he'd banshee his way out of this one. I rub at the space between them to distract him from himself.

"My old man loves himself so much it kind of passed itself down to me." He says finally, turning away the moment he does. Leaving him facing the television instead of lying on his back as he had been doing.

I let him tend to his emotions, waiting for him to give me a sign that said he wanted me to drop the topic but he hadn't. Kept his eyes open and sad as he watched the blackened screen, seeing some arrangement of memories that only he had the eyes to see. I wait for him to relax before replying.

"Is your mom like that too?" I offer gently, the question allowing him to escape the topic if he wanted to. But Damon's eyes only widen in surprise then he snorts loudly making me jump in surprise as he curls into himself, laughing with pure amusement I couldn't understand.

"Oh my Goddess, dad would hate you if he heard you say that." He says through his laughter, his body still shaking as he placed a hand to his aching stomach.

I frown slightly, sad I'd somehow already lost favor with his father not that there was a favor to lose. Damon and I weren't even dating, I still wasn't sure if it was something he wanted. We'd barely kissed a couple of times and spent a few hours together. I needed to stop letting myself falling because I'd hit the bottom when I never expected it.

I push the sadness away and scratch at my few brain cells to remember a religion which involved a Goddess, frown only deepening when I come up short.

"I have two dads," Damon explains when he'd grown tired of laughing at me. The reason why so clear now that I couldn't help the blush that ran up my neck at my false assumption.

"Seriously?" I ask slightly surprised. Damon glances up at me before he nods a little. "That's so cool."

Damon's smile was light, easy as he visibly reminisces but his eyes were dark and heavy, filled with sadness that made me regret probing at all.

"Try chaotic." He replies with a small chuckle, not completely closing up. "They are the complete opposite yet they're perfect together."

"That's sweet," I reply, truly in awe of something so beautiful.

My parents weren't perfect together, they were perfect for one another - there was a difference. They didn't love one another on a romantic level, they loved one another from a business standpoint seeing each other as the perfect specimen to further their positions in society. A weird, twisted form of affection grew because of that and fractured whenever one jeopardized the other's position.

It was weird growing up and looking to that as an example of love.

"How long have they been together?"

"Since high school, got together when they were eighteen and have been going ever since," Damon replies with a clear fondness which both warmed and confused me.

If Damon had such nice parents, why did he have no photos of them or talk about them, ever?

"They knew each other since birth and hated one another until they found out they were matttttttthematical lab partners." He finishes with wide, panicked eyes as his body suddenly tenses up.

I tilt my head in confusion, frowning at the clear cop out that that mathematical lab partners thing was, he was covering something up. I'm pretty sure mathematical lab partners weren't even a thing... unless they were...

"In their old school, it was a weird name for lab partners." He scrambles quickly to fill in the spaces. "They got stuck together for a project and fell in love."

Something in this story was a lie and it only added to the doubt.

"So then when did baby Damon come along?" I ask instead, grinning widely at the thought of Baby Damon. The grin only widens when a deep blush takes Damon's cheeks.

Fuck he could be so cute sometimes.

"Not too long after, they had, no got. They got me when they were still young." He says, voice fading with every word. "What about your parents?" He deflects, passing the unwanted, metaphorical hot potato of sharing to me.

I sigh and catch it. Banshee sticks on my tongue as I watch him, knowing that I was the one who'd dug him into these memories and it'd be a dickhead move to try and fuck off now.

"My parents are okay," I reply, smiling proudly at my diplomatic answer.

"Now, now, let's not do this." He replies, voice smug as he repositioned himself so that he was facing my stomach, slowing him to circle my waist with his arms. I bristle under his touch, groaning angrily at his skills of perception.

"I hate my parents," I admit. I try not to wince too much at the way his eyes filled with pity, it was something I hated to see in people and even more in Damon. He seems to catch this and immediately pushes it away, leaving only sadness to show how sorry he felt for me.